


Finding Peace

by hellkitty



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of Drift/Perceptor cuddle fluff, set during MTMTE</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Peace

PG  
IDW/MTMTE  
Drift/Perceptor  
schmoop and cuddlefluff  
[](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[ **wicked3659**](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/) 's prompt 'while you sleep' for my self-declared Drift/Percy fluffathon

  


Perceptor startled as the door to his quarters—a small room, but private, one the smallest cadre appointments on the Lost Light—opened.Drift stood in the doorway, a tired smile on his face.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Perceptor move to sit up, gathering the datapadsscattered around him on the berth. “Do you want to talk?” It had been a long time since they’d spoken, and he’d come to dread the idea of the conversation they should one day have about the past. It seemed neither of them wanted to shatter the future under the weight of the past though.

“Not really,” Drift said, thumbing the door closed, and removing the Great Sword from its mount between his shoulders. Drift did everything with this almost wild grace, making even the most banal act seem beautiful—even to the way he pulled the short blades from their sheathes, checked their blades, and slipped them back home before he turned to Perceptor.

Who sat, awkward and crosslegged on his berth, surrounded by the detritus of science, awkward and gangly.

Why Drift wanted him was a mystery. Why Drift came over, hips rolling as he moved, resting one palm flat on the berth between them to nuzzle his helm against Perceptor’s audio for a klik. “Just wanted to be with you.”

“Long day?” The small talk was lame, but even small talk was contact with Drift, and hopefully safe.

A tired smile. “I am _not_ a command mech. I’d rather be fighting than all these…meetings.” He gave a little shudder at the word.

Perceptor couldn’t help but smile back, minutely.  
  
Drift wavered, as though questioning his right. "...If you want that is." 

Like Perceptor could refuse. Like he’d ever want to. “You want me to…?” He held up the datapads.

Drift grinned, the smile so close to Perceptor’s face that it was dazzling. “I want you to read.”He waited, gesturing for Perceptor to lean back, as he’d been when Drift came in, shoulders against the wall, knees raised.

Drift curled onto the berth, moving down to rest his head on Perceptor’s belly, just where the thighs rose.The red spaulder rose, settled, as Drift wriggled into place, twisting his hips and slipping his feet in between Perceptor’s.

Perceptor couldn’t resist the lure, laying one palm flat on the elegant scallops of metal, feeling the heavy armor, the glossy enamel under his touch.

“Read,” Drift said, and Perceptor could already feel his systems idling down, the EM field growing soft and diffuse. 

“Drift,” he said. Just to say the name. Just to make it real that Drift was here, had sought him out.

Drift merely purred in acknowledgement, one hand coming up to tangle with Perceptor’s fingers on his shoulders.Perceptor found himself studying that hand, the battered armor, the strong servomotors, stroking his thumb over Drift’s knuckles.

Drift resettled his head, planting a drowsy kiss on Perceptor’s thigh.And though his head was right on Perceptor’s interface hatch, there was nothing sexual about this; Drift seemingly wanted nothing more than to seek comfort from proximity, finding some pleasure in simply being near, touching Perceptor.

It was something Perceptor had never had before. His optics flicked to a datapad he’d magnetized to his other knee, an article about polypeptide polymers and thermal armoring, and then back at Drift, curled around him.

This, he thought suddenly, was peace. This was all he could ever ask for and more than he’d dared hope for: to be wanted for himself, sought out just to be with, not for a favor or a mission but for himself, just himself, not even words. He’d never been comfortable, even before, with anyone: always on edge, always aware of talking too much, trying too hard.

But he’d never had to try with Drift. It had just come, with no effort from either of them, like pieces fitting together. Like a peptide, he thought, and then smiled at the ridiculousness of the analogy. And then more, realizing he could have said that aloud to Drift and Drift would have laughed, not at him, but with him, and maybe tweaked his scope in a playful tease.

He sighed, and then risked curling his shoulders off the wall, slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb Drift, but wanting to see Drift’s face.

It was worth the effort: in recharge, Drift’s face smoothed, all the worry, all the austerity and all the burden of his past seemed to fall away, leaving a face unlined, innocent, at peace. As though everything he’d been through, from the gutters through the war, somehow fled in Perceptor’s presence.

And he knew, in that strange way you know things but almost try to believe it’s just flattery because it’s too close to everything you’ve always wanted, that he was the only one who could do this for Drift, the only one he would come to, would be this open with. It meant more than interfacing, more than all the ardent vows of love, more than anything, simply to know that Drift, with him, just as he was, found peace.

  



End file.
